


A Cry in The Night

by ShowYourStripes



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 02:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowYourStripes/pseuds/ShowYourStripes
Summary: The depths of midnight hold the pleasants of slumber and a superficial nocturnal life. But even the glowing light from the Moon will fail to thwart the claws of treacherous dreams and nightmares, haunting both those young and old. Just one of the many allied soldiers in Lord Brocktree's makeshift army will not be safe from the terrors of the night and impending battle to take back the legendary home of the badger Lords: Salamandastron.





	A Cry in The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Redwall Fic Month  
> Week Two - Nightmares
> 
> There are some minor depictions of blood, but nothing too gory and disgusting. I tried to remain as gentle on it as possible, but while still trying to convey the feeling I wanted for this fic. Most of it should be something typically found in a Redwall novel.

The crackling of a nearby fire and the chatter and laughter of nearby creatures slowly seeped into the keen ears of a youthful young otter. Young he was, but he was old enough to fight. He laid in the grass, staring up at the forest canopy and through the crevices to look upon the moon. Stars dotted the night sky, twinkling their light and illuminating the sky along with the moon. Tales and stories circulated through the makeshift army about how the wildcat that stole the mountain could make the stars fall from the very sky. Those hares who saw it for themselves joked about it or would wholeheartedly believe it.

"Aye, but I saw it with me own eyes!"

"Nah, ye nitwit, tis jus' a trick to ye eyes!"

Even the young otter was asked about his thoughts, and he simply shrugged. "I don' think it be possible if ye're askin' me fer certain."

But thinking back to it now made his stomach churn and his head feel light. _Can it be possible fer a beast t'do so?_ The thought ran around in circles in his mind, thoroughly burdened him. He rolled over onto his side, not wanting to see the stars any longer. He forced his eyes shut, attempting to fall into slumber. Exhaustion soon pulled the otter into the depths of sleep and into the world of dreams...

He opened his eyes, but the nighttime he saw before him was not what he expected. The blazing light from countless torches lit up the sands as warfare broke loose. And there stood the young otter, immobilized by fear and utter confusion. Had he just been dreaming before, back to the simple and peaceful times before this had all started, and now he was brought to the reality before him? He shook his head. To his side, a comrade fell, an arrow piercing their chest, effectively killing them. The otter began to tremble, clutching to his javelin for dear life, unable to bring his stubby legs to carry him to safety. Warcries and screams of terror and death flooded his small ears, sinking him even more into the jaws of fear. He stood there, watching as the battling unfolded before him. 

Right before his eyes was the blade of a sword. He stood there, paralyzed in horror at the sudden weapon in his face. He demanded every ounce of his body to move, yet not even could he blink. He got a clear view of the smirking weasel behind the blade, their fur dyed all in blue. A face of a field-tested fighter. Centimeter by every painstakingly-small centimeter did the blade approach, and he could still only stare. His mind ran through all of what he could do, what would result, and how insignificant he had become now. 

Just another body to add to the casualties. That alone was a blade sharper than the one in his face; one that pierced deep into his very being. And time resumed to a normal pace, but his vision blacked out. The world around him ceased to make another sound. No blood-curdling screams of a fallen creature. No cries of victory or defeat. No one concerned for his life. He tried desperately to open his eyes again and wake up from what screamed of a nightmare to him. But his eyes opened up to the same blade and the same weasel before him, yet the scenery had changed. Fewer soldiers were on the field and more bodies laid across the sands of Salamandastron. And when the blade did its work, he felt a headache that disturbed his head immensely. He opened his eyes again to a familiar but different place. Beams of sunlight shined upon the blade and blinded the otter, yet he could still see what was on the shores. The badger he had come to know as Lord Brocktree, and the wildcat everybeast spoke of stood upon the shore. The two were locked in a duel that played out as slowly as the fate of the otter. And once more, time readjusted itself and he blacked out again.

And before him stood a shore of death and blood. All the comrades that he had been with at the encampment beforepaw laid dead in the sands. The mighty Lord Brocktree was down on his four paws before swiftly executed and dealt with, and the youngster could only gasp in horror. He could feel his body allowing him to move once more, but his movement was not any running, but instead, his paw felt for his chest. A sizeable hole that dripped of blood from where a blade had done its damage occupied itself where his breast would be. And soon, he collapsed into the sands, only to join the soldiers before him in death... The talons of Nightmares would not rest so easily on the young soul, and continued to torment him through his sleep. The otter died, again and again, each time a new way he had never believed could be possible on the battlefield.

The young otter tossed and turned in the grass, his soft whimpers slowly rising to that of a cry. The volume climbed until everybeast was soon staring and aware of his presence. A paw reached out to hold him, to comfort him. It would immediately jerk back as the youngster shot up, sweat pouring down his brow and tears dripping from his eyes. He gasped for air as if he had been starved of it, and looked around. Everybeast there stared at him. Even Lord Brocktree glared at him. Any other time it would embarrass the young otter but after that nightmare? He was thankful to see him alive and be alive himself. The paw that reached out to him before finally rested itself on his shoulder. He looked to see a young haremaid scanning him, concerned. "You okay?"

The otter wiped his face with his paw and nodded furiously. "Y-ya, ma'rm, j-just... just a wicked ol' dream 'here tah scare ye to death..."

She retreated and went to the badger who still studied the otter. She whispered into his ear before he nodded and stood up. The young otter's heart jumped a bit, and when he noticed that Brocktree was approaching him, it began to beat faster than any hare alive could run. "You do not mind me asking, but what was it that you dreamed?"

The badger's voice demanded an answer, yet somehow seemed sincere. "I-I... I... I jus' saw meself in a big ol' war, yet I ain't able t'move one bit, nosirree. An' I jus' watched meself die over an' over an' over with no end... B-but e-every death, more around me lie dead. E-even y-you t-too, sir..."

Brocktree sat down next to the otter. "And what may your name be? You're quite young to be here to fight."

"Wrefro, sir," the otter replied dutifully.

"Wrefro, aye? Well, let me tell you somethin'. Many youngsters such as yourself tend to be scared as such before big battles. It is completely natural. But what makes one a strong warrior is those who are able to hold their heart while being brave and marching into battle."

"B-Brocktree, sir, I don' wanna die..."

The large badger sighed heavily and put a paw around Wrefro. "Nobeast wants to, especially somebeast as youthful as yourself. From some of your fellow otter mates here, they all agree upon this: 'remember that death is the consequence for your inability, so fight! Fight with all you got, and do not dare to back down in the face of battle. The enemy will not sympathize with you, and neither shall you.'"

Wrefro's small face was riddled with thought and pondered what Brocktree had just said. The badger soon stood up and returned to his original seat with whom he'd been with, acting as if he'd never left in the first place. Wrefro ran those words over and over again in his head and began to smile. _Fight with all you got, and do not dare to back down in the face of battle!_

The grizzly events of his nightmare acted as the timber to the burning ember inside his soul that'd been set afire with the words of the otters. No matter how powerful the talons of Nightmares would puncture and attack his youthful mind and imagination, Wrefro's afire soul burned the monster from his being and left himself boldened and ready for war. Manybeasts began to gather gear and finish with their chatter as they all gathered around for the battle plan.

_Death is the consequence for your inability, so fight!_


End file.
